June 9, 2023 • 55 mins
EPISODE 223: COUNTDOWN WITH KEITH OLBERMANN
A-Block (1:42) SPECIAL COMMENT:
Donald Trump has been indicted on seven charges and the foremost of them is a violation of the Espionage Act, specifically designed to send to prison for ten years, someone who was legally allowed to possess UN-classified National Defense Information, but refused to return it to the proper government authorities. It's 18 US Code 793-D. It fits the allegations against Trump better than any of his suits. It erases all his stated defenses and excuses, like Trump’s belief he owned a magic wand of declassification, and a new one posited in just the last few days that he was the president so of COURSE he had the right to possess defense information. It describes a crime involving information that ISN’T classified, which the defendant at some point HAD the right to possess. Trump lawyer James Trusty says even he hasn’t even seen the actual indictment but only had broad strokes painted to him, and mentioned the Willful retention part of the Espionage Act (confirming 18 US Code 793-D), multiple charges about false statements, conspiracy, and quote “several obstruction-based charges” including witness tampering.
At approximately 7 PM Eastern Daylight Time on Thursday June 8, 2023, his attorneys were informed by the Department of Justice by PHONE, and HE was informed by those attorneys, that Trump had been indicted in Miami on seven separate SEALED counts of criminal conduct none of them yet formally revealed to the public but clearly pertaining to the classified and defense documents he stole and kept in his home and office at Mar-a-Lago and reportedly including charges of Illegal Retention of National Defense Information, Conspiracy To Obstruct Justice, False Statements to government investigators. Seven counts. For context: the usual number of indictments for former presidents or current presidential candidates is… approximately… zero.
CBS News is reporting that for all his bravado, Trump reacted to the indictments with anger because Trump had quote “people in his inner circle who reassured him for months that it was very unlikely to happen.”
And this momentous day in history is capped by the worst home video ever recorded. It is a masterpiece of missteps. On the Rushmore of Rushed-Work. A new high in low. Trump posted it at 7:57, from his golf club in Bedminster New Jersey, he is standing in front of a large painting, seemingly depicting a White House office scene from the late 19th Century. Trump has been positioned directly under a spotlight of some kind so his Flock of Seagulls combover that he has honed to exactly his preferred shade of spray-on Gold Rust-O-Leum has been bleached white and it looks like a yarmulke that has slid forward towards his bright white eyebrows. He is also perfectly placed in front of the painting in such a way that a man shown standing in the painting now appears to be one foot tall and standing ON TRUMP'S SHOULDER. And were that not stupid enough, he is twirling his mustache like Snidely Whiplash just back from tying Sweet Nell to the train tracks. It's startlingly fitting.
B-Block (22:00) POSTSCRIPTS TO THE NEWS: SCOTUS shocks with voting rights decision that could tip House to Democrats; Chris Licht is gone but so are CNN's ad revenues; We cross our 10 millionth download! (25:00) THE WORST PERSONS IN THE WORLD: Why bash Gene Simmons because he knows about the politics of Northern Ireland? You can still taste the air on the Atlantic seaboard but Fox will still mock it all. And OF COURSE George Santos's lawyer went to the Capitol on January 6th!
C-Block (32:00) FRIDAYS WITH THURBER: Some James Thurber stories are funny and some are poignant and some are supernatural. But some also have plots worthy of Arthur Conan Doyle writing Sherlock Holmes. And such a one is "The Catbird Seat."
See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:04):
Countdown with Keith Olderman is a production of iHeartRadio. Donald
Trump has been indicted on seven charges, and the foremost
of them is clearly a violation of the Espionage Act,
(00:26):
specifically one designed to send to prison for up to
ten years someone who was legally allowed to possess unclassified
national defense information, but who refused to return that information
in whatever form it took to the proper government authorities.
It is eighteen US Code seven nine to three D,
(00:49):
and it fits the allegations against Trump better than any
of his suits. It erases all his stated defenses and excuses,
like Trump's belief he owned a magic wand of declassification
and defense posited in just the last few days that
he was the president, so of course he had the
(01:10):
right to possess and keep all defense information. Eighteen US
Code seven nine to three D describes a crime involving
information that is not classified, which the defendant at some
point did have the right to possess, and it's still illegal.
Eighteen US Codes seven nine three D would seemingly box
(01:34):
Trump in without the possibility of escape. Trump's lawyer, James
Trusty told CNN last night he has not even seen
the actual indictment, but only had broad strokes painted to him,
and he mentioned the wilful retention part of the Espionage Act,
thus essentially confirming eighteen US Code seven nine three D.
(01:55):
He mentioned multiple charges about false statements about conspiracy, and
quote several obstruction based charges, including witness tampering to go
back to the beginning. At approximately seven pm Eastern daylight
time on Thursday, June eighth, twenty twenty three, his attorneys
(02:15):
were informed by the Department of Justice by phone, and
he was then informed by those attorneys that Trump had
been indicted in Miami on seven separate sealed counts of
criminal conduct, none of them yet formally revealed to the public,
but clearly pertaining to the classified and defense documents he
stole and kept in his home and his office at
(02:37):
marri Lago, and reportedly including charges of illegal retention of
national defense information, conspiracy to obstruct justice, false statements to
government investigators seven counts. For context, the usual number of
indictments for former presidents or current presidential candidates is approximately zero.
(02:59):
CBS News is reporting that for all of his bravado,
when that happened, Trump reacted to the indictments with anger
because Trump had quote people in his inner circle who
reassured him for months that it was very unlikely to happen.
The entire Miami grand jury process was apparently news to him,
and he really believed there was a chance that the
(03:21):
meeting between his attorneys Trustee and Rowley and Halligan with
Jack Smith, the special counsel on Monday might have turned
into some form of negotiation. CBS also reports Trump's team
now will move to dismiss and to try to question
Jack Smith or j Bratt of the Justice Department, the
latter over a casual remark he made to one witnesses
(03:44):
lawyers about the lawyer's application to become a judge, which
Trump's lawyers will now try to blow up into a
reason that Trump should walk on all of these charges
and all other charges, forever and ever and ever. Trump
is also reported shocked by the reported cooperation of his
former chief of staff, Mark Meadows, and CBS's Robert Costa
(04:07):
quotes a Trump ally as fuming, quote, why the f
has he been so quiet? Well? I can answer that
the specifics of what is the first federal indictment of
a former president only because Richard Nixon was preemptively pardoned
by the president who succeeded him, Gerald Ford are as
(04:29):
of recording time entirely unofficial and just sourced. But the
centerpiece of all reporting is as it was phraised by
ABC News, quote willful retention of national defense information. If
that is the correct characterization, it would seem to be
exactly what the UK paper The Independent had reported on
(04:51):
Wednesday that Special Counsel Smith had made the deliberate decision
to prosecute Trump not for stealing or possessing classified information,
but to proceed instead under eighteen US Code seventy nine three.
As that newspapers Andrew Feinberg wrote, the use of section
seven nine three, which does not make reference to classified information,
(05:13):
is understood to be a strategic decision by prosecutors that
has been made to short circuit mister Trump's ability to
claim that he used his authority as president to declassified
documents he removed from a White House on quote. Conviction
for violation of that Code seven nine to three gathering, transmitting,
or losing defense information carries a penalty of a fine
(05:38):
or of up to ten years in prison, or both,
since Paragraph D lists fourteen different kinds of defense information,
fourteen different forms of defense information. Let me abridge the
code somewhat as I read it to you. Quote. Whoever,
lawfully having possession of access, to, control, over, or being
(06:02):
entrusted with any document, et cetera relating to the national
defense willfully retains the same and fails to deliver it
on demand to the officer or employee of the United
States entitled to receive it on quote is guilty of
violating that statute. That not only reads as if it
(06:22):
were written to describe exactly what Trump did with all
the documents, but as suggested previously, it denies Trump any
claim that he had declassified those materials, because the crime
does not depend on their being any classified materials. It
circumvents the entirety of Trump's declassification defense, and were he
(06:43):
now to try to defend himself by modifying it to
claim that he had the right to possess the defense information,
that is also irrelevant the first clause of this magic
wand eighteen US Code seventy nine to three D. Whoever
lawfully having possession of defense information. Moreover, we may have
(07:07):
previously been given a preview of exactly what that defense
information is, or at least what one piece of that
defense information could be even if there are multiple allegations,
even if there is just one indictment for ten thousand
pieces of paper. On May thirty first, CNN reported that
Trump had been recorded by the ghostwriters for Mark Meadows
(07:30):
referring to seemingly holding in his hands, seemingly paraphrasing what
Trump said was a four page document from the Chairman
of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Mark Millie, which outlined
United States military plans for an attack on Iran. Trump
refers to the fact on the recording that he cannot
just show it to the writers because he can't unilaterally
(07:51):
declassify material. There was also subsequent reporting that the National
Archives asked for the return of a document matching Trump's
own description of the four page Milli Iran plan, but
Trump's lawyers could not find it, and by all accounts
(08:11):
did not and have not returned it. I referred to
this four page document on this podcast on that date
as the smoking gun. I think I'll stick with that reference.
Of course, any charge under eighteen US Code seventy nine
three D would be so broad, could be so broad
(08:32):
that it could contain almost any document Trump kept, or
all of them, or just the classified ones, or just
the unclassified ones, or just the ones he claimed had
been declassified. It doesn't matter if Trump actually had some
kind of magic wand it matters only that Jack Smith
has won. Now, we do not and probably will not,
(08:55):
have any kind of understanding of the math. Where do
seven counts come from when virtually all reporting creates three
column headings? Or the crimes of Donald Trump? Again to
quote ABC's reporting willful retention of national defense information? Well
we got that one clear, I hope, conspiracy scheme to
conceal and false statements and representations for the impeccable Ryan
(09:21):
Goodman of Just Security. Scheme to conceal could easily be
eighteen US Code one zero zero one quote. Whoever, in
any matter within the jurisdiction of the executive, legislative, or
judicial branch of the government, falsifies, conceals, or covers up
by any trick, scheme, or device, a material fact unquote
(09:43):
relevant to a prosecution that carries fines or prison up
to five years for doing that false statements. That's a
little less obvious, since there is no evidence that Trump
himself has made any statements to any official in this investigation, that,
after all, is the art of being Trump. You don't
(10:05):
go on the record that guy does. But the New
York Times observes Trump could still be guilty of violating
eighteen US Code two quote. Whoever commits an offense against
the United States or aids of bets, councils, commands, induces,
or procures its commission is punishable as a principle. Slight
(10:28):
translation here, if you caused it to happen, it's the
same as you actually doing it yourself. To resume eighteen
US Code two, whoever willfully causes an act to be done, which,
if directly performed by him or another, would be an
offense against the United States is punishable as a principle. Well,
(10:50):
what on earth could that be that could easily be
making his own attorney, Evan Corcoran draw up that document
saying that a thorough search of Mari Lago had been
conducted and these thirty eight classified documents were all we found,
and here's Christina Bob's signature on it at the bottom,
When in fact, Trump himself had made sure that it
(11:11):
could not have been a thorough search because he moved
all the boxes back and forth, and he kept Corcoran
from searching anywhere but in the storage room. Or it
could be what I mentioned to you yesterday, this newly
reported fascination that prosecutors have with the original draft of
a January twenty twenty two statement that included a claim
(11:32):
that everything had been returned to the archives, then a
claim that was removed from the final statement on the
matter in January twenty twenty two. Again, this is all
just reading tea leaves, and we are reading tea leaves
because by Department of Justice Code of honor or God
knows what the indictment is sealed. That secrecy by the
(11:55):
Special Council has left the entire publicity playing field clear
for Trump and every Republican under the sun to get
out their version of this write down to Trump, in
fact being the first to reveal his own indictment in
a social media post at seven twenty one pm Eastern quote,
the corrupt Biden administration has informed my attorneys that I
(12:17):
have been indicted seemingly over the boxes, et cetera, et cetera,
et cetera, followed by I have been summoned to appear
at the Federal Courthouse in Miami on Tuesday at three pm.
He did not add be there aloha. There followed an
avalanche of Banana Republic references and a blitz of fundraising emails,
(12:39):
and a promise from the unintentional parody presidential candidate Vivek
Ramaswami to pardon Trump on January twentieth, twenty twenty five, which,
given Trump's intention to be president again and his insistence
that he is innocent, may not be the flex that
Ramaswami thinks. It is a couple of brief scenes off
(13:00):
stage worth noting The New York Times Glenn Thrush may
have seen the indictment in real time shortly before three
point thirty yesterday in the courtyard of the Justice Department,
writes Thrush, quote Marshall Miller, a top Department official who
acted as an intermediary with the Special Council, raced out
of the building with a wad of papers in his
(13:21):
hand and an aid in tow. Also, the reputation of
the Secret Service continues to disintegrate. The Washington Post Rights
Secret Service officials in Washington and members of Trump's security
detail companying him in New Jersey were caught off guard
by his announcement Thursday night that he had been indicted.
(13:43):
Within moments of his post untruth, social Secret Service officials
began emailing one another and setting in motion a series
of planning meetings in Washington and Miami. Really, they were surprised.
How what happened here? Did the Secret Service transfer those
(14:03):
agents who had been guarding the home of the National
Security Advisor Jake Sullivan back in April when an intoxicated
man sash aid, passed every last one of them at
three o'clock in the morning and broke into Sullivan's house,
And they never noticed because they were too busy looking
at their cell phones, and they didn't know about it
until Sullivan came out and told them himself. Same guys surprised.
(14:29):
Other notes, Newt Gingrich testified yesterday presumably about Trump builking
his own roubs for funds to fight as stolen election
that he knew was not stolen, or about the fake
elector's scheme, or both, and that serves as a reminder
that Jack Smith's investigations and possible charges against Trump continue
on all other fronts. Also, Steve Mannon has been subpoened,
(14:53):
and the Biden White House insists that it learned of
the indictments last night only when they sought in media.
You know, I did get out one of the first
t wheats on the Trump announcement. I'm hoping they saw that. Lastly,
since man's most distant ancestor climbed the primordial ooze, every
(15:16):
momentous event in our history has always been accompanied by
an equally momentous stupid event. There was the twenty one
gun salute in which the honoree got shot. There was
the new state of the art baseball stadium that opened
without a press box for the reporters to sit in.
And now there is Trump's indictment announcement and the worst
(15:41):
home video ever recorded. It is a masterpiece of missteps.
It is on the rushmore of rushed work. It is
a new high in low. Trump posted it at seven
point fifty seven from his golf club in Bedminster, New Jersey.
(16:03):
He is standing in front of a large painting seemingly
depicting a white house office scene from the late nineteenth century.
Trump has been positioned directly under an overhead spotlight of
some kind, so his flock of seagulls comb over that
he has honed to exactly his preferred shade of spray
(16:25):
on gold rustolium has instead been bleached white, and it
looks like a white yamica that has slid forward towards
his bright white eyebrows. He is also perfectly placed in
front of that painting in such a way that a
man in the painting who is standing. I think it
could be President Chester A. Arthur, or even President Grover Cleveland,
(16:48):
although the body language suggests it's mister Peanut. The man
in the painting is perfectly positioned and seems to be
about a foot tall and seems to be standing on
top of Trump's right shoulder. If this great gazoo effect
were not already hilarious enough, the man standing on Trump's shoulder,
(17:11):
the foot tall man on Trump's shoulder, is twirling his
mustache like he is snidely whiplash who has just tied
No Fenwick to the railroad tracks, and he is standing
on Trump's shoulder as Trump announces he has been indicted
(17:33):
for crimes against the United States of America. Want a
fitting way to end the coverage of the first time
in our hist Oh wait, I forgot something I forgot
there's new lyrics to my favorite song. I God indicted
(17:58):
in Miami, ding Don Counts Argona claw t book me
and bail me, try me and jail me, but get
me to the trial on time. Thank you, Nancy Fast.
(18:20):
Also of interest here as if we could possibly possibly
top the indictment of Donald Trump on seven different charges.
Also of interest here a name you thought you had
been done with hearing me say ever again? Ah, but
CNN's year to year advertising information has come out. I
(18:44):
will go over all of it because it doesn't take
as long as it should, because it's down forty percent
from last year. Last year before they ever heard the
name that's next. This is countdown. You know. This is
countdown with you know Keith Alberman. Postscripts to news some headlines,
(19:11):
some updates, some snarks, some predictions, dateline the Supreme Court,
somebody got scared. Chief Justice Roberts and Brett party down.
Cavanaugh lined up with the three liberals to strike down
Alabama's racist congressional map, upholding a key part of the
Voting Rights Act, with such alacrity that within hours, the
(19:32):
Cook Political Report changed five of its congressional predictions for
next year, Alabama's first and second districts, and the Louisiana
fifth and sixth go from solid Republican to toss up,
and the North Carolina first goes from toss up to
lean Democratic. As some political observers observed, the court may
(19:53):
have just given the Democrats the House back, if that
weren't shocking enough. A bid to hobble medicaid and keep
citizens from suing states for violating their rights was rejected
by the worked by seven to two. The only dissenters
were Alito and Thomas. Obviously, Thomas's check has cleared. Dateline
CNN Hudson Yards, New York, Chris Lickt is gone, but
(20:15):
the memory and the stench lingers on the advertising Research
from Media Radar reports that for the first four months
of twenty twenty three, CNN's on air and digital ad
revenue had dropped forty percent compared to the first four
months of twenty twenty two before Lickt got there and
started hunting for the middle that does not exist in
(20:36):
real terms. That's two hundred million dollars CNN did not
make for context. MSNBC lost six point one percent of
its ad revenue, Fox six point eight, CNN forty. But
I'm sure they'll figure it out, just because their old
audience is gone, and there's no stars in primetime or
(20:57):
in the morning or any other time of the day.
(21:18):
Thank you, Nancy Faust. Dateline Fox Quote News unquote. It
has announced that Monday, Sean Hannity's guest will be Governor
Gavin Newsom of California, who admits he watches Fox all
the time, whose ex wife, Kimberly Gilfoyle used to be
on Fox before she turned out to be even too
gross for them. Here's a question, Governor, why why would
(21:41):
you go on Fox? Now? Their own viewers have their
foot on Fox's neck and you go on there. It's
like Stephen A. Smith going on with Hannity. You can
only damage yourself, and even if you don't actually damage
yourself during the show, they have all that tape of
you that they can distort out of context and use
against you next time. Democrats do not go on Fox.
(22:05):
They are mortally wounded. Let them bleed. Dateline Alderman Broadcasting
Empire World Headquarters, Sports Capsule Building, New York. Sometime very
late Tuesday, it looks like this podcast crossed another threshold.
Ten million downloads in a little over ten months, a million,
five hundred thousand of them last month alone. As ever,
(22:26):
I thank you for your support and your loyalty. And
with that uncharacteristic niceness out of the way, it's not enough,
it's not nearly enough. Tell the others stop passers by, seriously,
thank you. Coming up Fridays with thurber and many of
(22:55):
his stories are clever, and many are funny. And then
there are some whose plots are worthy of Arthur Conan
Doyle or Shakespeare. The cat seat next first the day
he round up with the missigrants, morons and dunning Kruger
effect specimens who constitute today's bus pussons in the world lebrons,
(23:16):
a bunch of people bashing Gene Simmons of kiss because
he showed up to the British Parliament and attended Prime
Minister's question time, and he visited the Irish mp ian Paisley.
Simmons also called for the restoration of the Stormont House Agreement,
in which power in Northern Ireland would be shared by
Irish and pro British politicians for the benefit of citizens.
(23:36):
And a lot of reaction here and there was he's
a rock and roll guy in face paint. Gene Simmons
also used to be a sixth grade teacher, and I
ask you this, which makes more sense Gene Simmons in
his kiss attire talking about Irish politics, or Marjorie Taylor
Green being allowed into Congress without a tour pass and
(23:59):
adult supervision. The runners up, Jesse Waters and Laura Ingram,
who work at the rotting carcass of what used to
be Fox quote News unquote, don't go on there, Governor.
They continue to mock the last two days of the
air in New York and Washington and all the Atlantic
seaboard being tasteable, being so orange that, as the satirical
(24:21):
site Have I Got News for You pointed out, New
Yorker is urged to remain vigilant after Donald Trump is
rendered completely invisible. Waters mocked warnings to stay inside by saying,
paboly saints, stay inside, but I didn't listen, which checks
out because he's a moron. A lot of stupid people
(24:42):
on Fox kill Meat is stupid. Harris Faulkner is so stupid.
She used to have a cell phone case with her
own picture on it, apparently in case she forgot what
she looked like. But Waters is next level. Ingram meanwhile
hosted a climate change denier named Steve Molloy and Steve
Malloy said, we have this kind of air in India
and China all the time. No public health emergency. This
(25:05):
doesn't kill anybody, that doesn't make anybody cough. This is
not a health event, no, of course, not other than
the extra million premature deaths a year from air pollution
in China and India. Doesn't mean a thing. Ah, I'm
surprised they didn't note that. With the atmospheric patterns suggesting
that we're in for a summer of this, New Yorkers
(25:26):
and Washingtonians who have always wanted their own fireplace but
could not afford one, can now just open a window
and make a crackling sound with some cellophane and pretend
they have one. But our winner, good old George Santos,
once again, we can do two things at once. We
can deplore his extraordinary dishonesty, that his amazing conviction that
(25:47):
he will continue to get away with it because so
far he has, while at the same time we can
only look at the stamina with envy, his stamina in
finding ways that none of the rest of us would
have ever dreamed of to break laws, violate ethics, and
surround ourselves with the worst possible people. That Mother Jones Magazine,
(26:09):
David Corn and Jacqueline Sweet report that Santos is so
corrupt that his lawyer was in the mob that attacked
the Capitol on January sixth. Now we knowed Santos was
in the VIP section that day for Trump's stochastic terrorism
speech at the Ellipse. But now Mother Jones reports quote,
newly uncovered photos and video footage of January sixth show
(26:30):
that his attorney, Joseph Murray, was in the angry mob
that trespassed on Capitol grounds. It appears the attorney Murray
got to the steps of the Capitol and stopped and watched.
No evidence he went in, No evidence he broke the law.
But Mother Jones says former Queen's Republican District leader Philip Grillow,
who went into the Congress through a broken window, says
(26:52):
he himself saw Murray on the way from the Ellipse. Quote,
he was leading the charge up the hill. He was
urging us on waiving this to follow him. And now
he's George Santos's lawyer. George, Yeah, but he didn't go
in the Capitol.
Speaker 2 (27:08):
Santos Today's worst parson in the world. Here's the number
one story on the Countdown, and since it is the
(27:28):
weekend edition, it's time for some James Thurber. The catbirds
Seat combines two of my all time favorite things, Thurber
and baseball broadcasting. As Thurber will reveal in the story,
the title comes from a catchphrase used by the Brooklyn
Dodgers legendary announcer Red Barber, the man who trained Vince
Scully and is my late friend Vin's only true competition
(27:51):
for greatest baseball play by playing man of all time.
I met Red Barber once I interviewed him for CNN.
He called me Keith throughout the interview. I was so starstruck.
It's pretty much all I remember from the interview.
Speaker 1 (28:05):
Anyway. Bert Lancaster bought the movie rights to this story
and he got Billy Wilder to commit to direct it. Well,
how come you've never heard of this perfect sounding film,
The Catbird Seat, directed by Billy Wilder. They sold the
rights and in nineteen sixty the film was made, but
(28:25):
they relocated it from Manhattan to Scotland, starring Peter Sellars
dressed up as an old man as mister Martin. It's okay,
unless you've read the story or had it read to
you from the Thurber Carnival nineteen forty five, The Catbird
Seat by James Thurber. Mister Martin bought the pack of
(28:51):
camels on Monday night in the most crowded cigar store
on Broadway. It was theater time, and seven or eight
men were buying cigarettes. The clerk didn't even glance at
mister Martin, who put the pack in his overcoat pocket
and went out. If any of the staff at F
and S had seen him by the cigarettes, they would
have been astonished, for it was generally known that mister
(29:14):
Martin did not smoke, and never had. No one saw him.
It was just a week to the day since mister
Martin had decided to rub out missus Old Jean Barrows.
The term rub out pleased him because it suggested nothing
more than the correction of an error, in this case,
(29:35):
an error of mister Fitweiler. Mister Martin had spent each
night of the past week working out his plan and
examining it as he walked home. Now he went over
it again for the hundredth time. He resented the element
of imprecision, the margin of guesswork that entered into the business.
The project, as he had worked it out, was casual
(29:59):
and bold. The risks were considerable. Something might go wrong
anywhere along the line, and therein lay the cunning of
his scheme. No one would ever see in the cautious,
painstaking hand of Irwin Martin, head of the filing department
at f and S, of whom mister Fitweiler had once said,
(30:21):
man is fallible, but Martin isn't. No one would see
his hand, that is, unless he were caught in the act.
Sitting in his apartment drinking a glass of milk, mister
Martin reviewed his case against missus Old Jean Barrows, as
he had every night for seven nights. He began at
(30:45):
the beginning. Her quacking voice and braying laugh at first
profaned the halls of FNS. On March seventh, nineteen forty one,
mister Martin had a head for dates. Old Roberts, the
personnel chief, had introduced her as the newly appointed special
advisor to the present of the firm, mister Fitweiler. The
(31:07):
woman had appalled mister Martin instantly, but he had not
shown it. He had given her his dry hand a
look of studious concentration in a faint smile. Well, she said,
looking at the papers on his desk, are you lifting
the ox cart out of the ditch. As mister Martin
recalled that moment over his milk, he squirmed slightly. He
(31:32):
must keep his mind on her crimes as a special advisor,
not on her peccadillos as a personality. This he found
difficult to do. In spite of entering an objection and
sustaining it. The faults of the woman as a woman
kept chattering on in his mind like an unruly witness.
She had for almost two years now baited him in
(31:54):
the halls, in the elevator, even in his own office,
into which she romped now and then like a circus horse.
She was constantly shouting these silly questions at him. Are
you lefting the ox cart out of the ditch? Are
you tearing up the pea patch? Are you hollering down
the rain barrel? Are you scraping around the bottom of
(32:15):
the pickle barrel? Are you sitting in the catmarried seat.
It was Joey Hart, one of mister Martin's two assistants,
who had explained what the gibberish meant she must be
a Dodger fan, he had said. Red Bob announces the
(32:35):
Dodger games over the radio, and he uses these expressions,
picked them up down south. Joey had gone on to
explain one or two, Tearing up the pea patch meant
going on a rampage. Sitting in the catbirds seat meant
sitting pretty like a batter with three balls and no
strikes on him. Mister Martin dismissed all this with an effort.
(32:58):
It had been annoying, it had driven him nearer to distraction,
but he was too solid a man to be moved,
moved to murder by anything so childish. It was unfortunate,
he reflected, as he passed on to the important charges
against Missus Barrows, that he had stood up under it
so well. He had maintained always an outward appearance of
(33:22):
polite tolerance. Why I even believe you like the woman mispaired,
His other assistant had once said to him, he had
simply smiled a gavel wrapped in mister Martin's mind, and
the case proper was resumed. Missus Aul Jean Barrows stood
charged with wilful, flatant and persistent attempts to destroy the
(33:42):
efficiency and system of fn S. It was confident material
and relevant to review her advent and rise to power.
Mister Martin had got the story from Miss Paired, who
seemed always able to find things out. According to her,
Missus Barrows had met mister Fitweller at a party where
(34:04):
she had rescued him from the embraces of a powerfully built,
drunken man who had mistaken the president of F and
S for a famous retired middle Western football coach. She
had led him to a sofa and somehow worked upon
him a monstrous magic. The aging gentleman had jumped to
(34:24):
the conclusion there and then that this was a woman
of singular attainments, equipped to bring out the best in
him and in the firm. A week later he had
introduced her into F and S as his special adviser.
On that day, Confusion got its foot in the door.
(34:47):
After Miss Tyson, mister Brundage, and mister Bartlett had been
fired and mister Munson had taken his hat and stalked
out mailing. In his resignation letter, Old Roberts had been
emboldened to speak to mister Fitweiler. He mentioned that mister
Munson's department had become a little disrupted, and hadn't a
perhaps better resume the old system there? Mister Fitwaller had said,
(35:09):
certainly not. He had the greatest faith in missus Barrow's ideas.
They require a little seasoning. Little seasoning is all, he
had added. Mister Roberts had given it up. Mister Martin
reviewed in detail all the changes wrought by missus Barrows.
She had begun chipping at the cornices of the firm's edifice,
(35:29):
and now she was swinging at the foundation stones with
a pickaxe. Mister Martin came now in his summing up
to the afternoon of Monday, November two, nineteen forty two,
just one week ago. On that day, at three pm,
Missus Barrows had bounced into his office. Boo, she had yelled,
(35:50):
Are you scraping around the bottom of the pickle barrel?
Mister Martin had looked at her from under his green
eye shade, saying nothing. She had begun to wander about
the office, taking it in with her great popping eyes.
Do you really need all these filing cabinets, she had demanded. Suddenly,
(36:11):
mister Martin's heart had jumped each of these files. He
had said, keeping his voice even plays an indispensable part
in the system of f and s. She had brayed
at him while don't tear up the pea patch, and
gone to the door. From there she had bawled, but
(36:31):
you sure have got a lot of fines scrap in here.
Mister Martin could no longer doubt that the finger was
on his beloved department. Her pickaxe was on the upswing,
poised for the first blow. It had not come yet.
He had received no blue memo from the enchanted mister
(36:53):
Fitweller bearing nonsensical instructions deriving from this obscene woman, But
there was no doubt in mister Martin's mind that one
would be forthcoming. He must act quickly. Already a precious
week had gone by. Mister Martin stood up in his
living room, still holding his milk glass. Gentlemen of the jury,
(37:15):
he said to himself, I demand the death penalty for
this horrible person. The next day, mister Martin followed his
routine as usual. He polished his glasses more often and
once sharpened an already sharp pencil. But not even mispaired noticed.
Only once did he catch sight of his victim. She
(37:38):
swept past him in the hall with the patronizing Hi.
At five point thirty, he walked home as usual and
had a glass of milk as usual. He had never
drunk anything stronger in his life, unless you could count
ginger Ale. The late Sam Schlosser, the s of F
and S had praised mister Martin at a staff meeting
several years before for his temperate habits. One of our
(38:02):
most efficient workers. Neither drinks nor smoke, he had said,
the results speak for themselves. Mister Fitwiler had sat by,
nodding approval. Mister Martin was still thinking about that red
letter day as he walked over to the Shaft's restaurant
on Fifth Avenue near forty sixth Street. He got there
as he always did, at eight o'clock. He finished his
(38:23):
dinner and the financial page of the New York Sun
quartered at to nine. As he always did, It was
his custom after dinner to take a walk. This time
he walked down Fifth Avenue at a casual place. His
gloved hands felt moist and warm, his forehead cold. He
transferred the camels from his overcoat to a jacket pocket.
(38:43):
He wondered as he did so, if they did not
represent an unnecessary note of strain. Missus Sparrows smoked only luckies.
It was his idea to puff a few puffs on
a camel after the rubbing out, stub it out in
the ashtray, holding her lipstick, saying luckies, and thus drag
(39:04):
a small red hairing across the trail. Perhaps it was
not a good idea. It would take time. He might
even choke too loudly. Mister Martin had never seen the
house on West twelfth Street where Missus Barrows lived, but
he had a clear enough picture of it. Fortunately, she
had bragged to everybody about her decky first floor apartment
(39:28):
in the perfectly darling three story red brick. There would
be no doorman or other attendants, just the tenants of
the second and third floors. As he walked along, mister
Martin realized that he would get there before nine thirty.
He had considered walking north on Fifth Avenue from Shrafts
to a point from which it would take him until
(39:48):
ten o'clock to reach the house. At that hour people
were less likely to be coming in or going out,
But the procedure would have made an awkward loop in
the straight thread of his casualness, and he had abandoned it.
It was impossible to figure when people would be entering
or leaving the house. Anyway, there was a great risk
at any hour if he ran into anybody, he would
(40:09):
simply have to place the rubbing out of Old Jean
Barrows in the inactive file forever. The same thing would
hold true if there was someone in her apartment. In
that case, he would just say that he had been
passing by, recognized her charming house, and thought to drop in.
It was eighteen minutes after nine when mister Martin turned
(40:31):
into twelfth Street. A man passed him, and a man
and a woman talking. There was no one within fifty paces.
When he came to the house halfway down the block.
He was up the steps and in the small vestibule,
and no time pressing the bell under the card that
said missus Old Jean Barrows. When the clicking in the
locks started, he jumped forward against the door. He got
inside fast, closing the door behind him. A bulb in
(40:53):
a lantern hung from the hall ceiling on a chain
seemed to give a monstrously bright light. There was nobody
on the stair which went up ahead of him. Along
the left wall. A door opened down the hall on
the wall on the right. He went toward it swiftly
on tiptoe. Well, for God's sakes, look who's here? Bawled
Missus Barrows, and her brain laugh rang out like the
(41:16):
report of a shotgun. He rushed past her like a
football attacker, bumping her. Hey, quit shoving, she said, closing
the door behind them. They were in her living room,
which seemed to mister Martin to be lighted by a
hundred lamps. What's after you? She said, here's jumpy as
a goat. He found he was unable to speak. His
(41:39):
heart was wheezing in his throat. I yes, he finally
brought out. She was jabbering and laughing as she started
to help him off with his coat. No, no, he said,
I'll put it here. He took it off and put
it on a chair near the door. Your hat and
gloves too, She said, you're in a lady's house. He
(42:02):
put his hat on top of the coat. Missus Barrows
seemed larger than he had thought. He kept his gloves on.
I was passing by, he said, I recognized. Is there
anyone here? She laughed louder than ever. No, she said,
(42:22):
we're all alone. You're white. Is a sheet? You funny man?
Whatever has come over you, I'll mix you a toddy.
She started toward a door across the room. Scotch and
so to be all right, But say you don't drink,
do you? She turned and gave him her amused look.
Mister Martin pulled himself together. Scotch and soda will be
(42:43):
all right, he heard himself say. He could hear her
laughing in the kitchen. Mister Martin looked quickly around the
living room for the weapon he had counted on finding one.
There there were and irons, and a poker, and something
in a corner that looked like an Indian club. None
of them would do it. Couldn't be that way. He
began to pace around. He came to a desk. On
(43:05):
it lay a metal paper knife with an ornate handle.
Would it be sharp enough? He reached for it and
knocked over a small brass jar. Stamps spilled out of
it and fell onto the floor with a clatter. Hey, missus,
Barrows yelled from the kitchen. Are you tearing up the
pea patch? Mister Martin gave a strange laugh. Picking up
(43:27):
the knife, he tried its point against his left wrist.
It was blunt. It wouldn't do. When Missus Barrows reappeared
carrying two high balls, mister Martin, standing there with his
gloves on, became acutely conscious of the fantasy. He had
wrought cigarettes in his pocket, a drink prepared for him.
(43:49):
It was all too grossly improbable. It was more than that,
it was impossible. Somewhere in the back of his mind,
a vague idea stirred sprouted. For heaven's sake, take off
those gloves, said Missus Barrows. I always wear them in
(44:12):
the house, said mister Martin. The idea began to bloom,
strange and wonderful. She put the glasses on a coffee
table in front of a sofa and sat on the sofa.
Come over here, you odd little man, she said. Mister
Martin went over and sat beside her. It was difficult
(44:32):
getting a cigarette out of the pack of camels, but
he managed it. She held a match for him, laughing,
she said, handing him his drink. This is perfectly marvelous,
you with a drink and a cigarette. Mister Martin puffed,
not too awkwardly, and took a gulp of the highball.
(44:53):
I drink and smoke all the time, he said. He
clinked his glass against hers. Here's nuts to that old
wind bag fit whiler, he said, and gulped again. The
stuff tasted awful, but he made no grimace. Really, mister Martin,
she said, her voice and posture changing, you are insulting
our employer. Missus Barrows was now all special advisor to
(45:19):
the President. I am preparing a bomb, said mister Martin,
which will blow the old goat higher than hell. He
had only had a little of the drink, which was
not strong. It couldn't be that. Do you take dope
or something, Missus Barrows asked coldly. Heroine said, mister Martin,
(45:40):
I'll be coked to the gills when I bumped that
old buzzard off. Mister Martin, she shouted, getting to her feet,
that will be all of that. You must go at once.
Mister Martin took another swallow of the drink. He tapped
his cigarette out in the ash tray and put the
pack of camels on the coffee table. Then he got up.
She stood glaring at him. He walked over and put
(46:03):
on his hat and coat. Not a word about this,
he said, and laid an index finger against his lips.
All missus Barrows could bring out was a really Mister
Martin put his hand on the doorknob, sitting in the
catbird's seat, he said, he stuck his tongue out at
(46:25):
her and left. Nobody saw him go. Mister Martin got
to his apartment walking well before eleven. No one saw
him go in. He had two glasses of milk after
brushing his teeth, and he felt elated. It wasn't tipsy
in is because he hadn't been tipsy anyway. The walk
(46:45):
had worn off all effects of the whiskey. He got
in bed and read a magazine for a while. He
was asleep before midnight. Mister Martin got to the office
at eight thirty the next morning as usual. At a
quarter to nine, old Jean Barrows, who had never before
arrived at work before ten, swept into his office. I'm
the party to mister Fitwaler now, she shouted. If he
(47:07):
turns you over to the police, it's no more than
you deserve. Mister Martin gave her a look of shocked surprise.
I beg your pardon, he said. Missus Barrow snorted and
bounced out of the room, leaving miss paird and Joey
Hart staring after her. What's the matter with that old devil, now,
asked Miss Paired. I have no idea, said mister Martin,
(47:30):
resuming his work. The other two looked at him, and
then at each other. Miss Paired got up and went out.
She walked slowly past the closed door of mister Fitwiler's office.
Missus Barrows was yelling inside, but she was not braying.
Miss Paired could not hear what the woman was saying.
She went back to her desk. Forty five minutes later,
(47:52):
Missus Barrows left the President's office and went into her own,
shutting the door. It wasn't until half an hour later
that mister Fitwiler sent for mister Martin, the head of
the filing department. Neat quiet, attentive, stood in front of
the old man's desk. Mister Fitweiler was pale and nervous.
He took his glasses off and twiddled them. He made
(48:12):
a small ruffing sound in his throat. Martin, he said,
you have been with us more than twenty years. Twenty two, sir,
said mister Martin, in that time pursued the President. Your
work and your manner have been exemplary. I trust so, sir,
(48:34):
said mister Martin. I have understood, Martin, said mister Fitwaller,
that you have never taken a drink or smoked. That
is correct, sir, said mister Martin. Ah yes, mister Fitwiler
polished his glasses. You may describe what you did after
leaving the office yesterday, Martin, he said, certainly, sir, he said,
(48:58):
I walked home. Then I went to Shafts for dinner. Afterward,
I walked home again. I went to bed early, sir,
and read a magaze for a while. I was asleep
before eleven. Ah. Yes, said mister Fitwiler. Again. He was
silent for a moment, searching for the proper words to
say to the head of the filing department, Missus Barrows.
(49:21):
He said, finally, Missus Barrows has worked hard, Martin, very hard.
It brings me to report that she has suffered a
severe breakdown. It has taken the form of a persecution
complex accompanied by distressing hallucinations. I'm very sorry, sir, said
mister Martin. Missus Barrows is under the delusion, continued mister Fitwiler,
(49:46):
that you visited her last evening and behaved yourself in
an unseemly manner. He raised his hand to silence mister
Martin's little, pained outcry. It is the nature of these
psychological diseases, mister Fitwiler said, to fix upon the least
likely and most innocent party is the source of persecution.
(50:10):
These matters are not for the lay mind to grasp, Martin.
I've just had my psychiatrist, doctor Fitch, on the phone.
He would not, of course commit himself, but he made
enough generalizations to substantiate my suspicions. I suggested to missus Barrows,
when she had completed her story to me this morning,
(50:32):
that she visited doctor Fitch for I suspected a condition.
At once sentence, she flew, I regret to say, into
a rage and demanded requested that I call you on
the carpet. You may not know, Martin, but Missus Barrows
had planned a reorganization of your department, subject to my approval.
(50:53):
Of course, subject to my approval. This brought you, rather
than anyone else, to her mind. But again, that is
a phenomenon for doctor Fitch and not for us. So Martin,
I'm afraid Missus Barrow's usefulness here is at an end.
I'm dreadfully sorry, sir, said mister Martin. It was at
(51:16):
this point that the door to the office blew open
with the suddenness of a gas main explosion, and Missus
Barrows catapulted through. It is the little rad denying it,
she screamed. He can't get away with that. Mister Martin
got up and moved discreetly to a point beside mister
Fitwailer's chair. You drank and smoked at my apartment, she
(51:38):
bawled at mister Martin, and you know it. You called
mister Fitweer an old wind bag and said you were
gonna blow him up when you got coked to your
gills on your heroine. She stopped yelling to catch her breath,
and a new glint came into her popping eyes. If
you weren't set to drab, ordinary little man, she said,
I'd think you'd planned it all, sticking your tongue out,
(52:02):
saying you were sitting in the cat burried seat because
you thought no one would believe me when I told it.
My god, it's really too perfect, she brayed loudly and hysterically,
and the fury was on her again. She glared at
mister Fitweiler.
Speaker 2 (52:19):
Can't you see how he has checked us, You old fool,
can't you see his little game?
Speaker 1 (52:26):
But mister Fitwiler had been surreptitiously pressing all the buttons
under the top of his desk, and employees of F
and S began pouring into the room. Stockton said, Missus Fitchwiler,
you and Fishbine will take missus Barrows to her home.
Missus Powell, you will go with them. Stockton, who had
played a little football in high school, blocked Missus Barrows
(52:46):
as she made for mister Martin. It took him and
fish Mine together to force her out of the door
into the hall crowded with stenographers and office boys. She
was still screaming imprecations at mister Martin. Tangled and contradictory imprecations.
The hubbub finally died out on the corridor. I regret
(53:07):
that this has happened, said mister Fitwiler. I shall ask
you to dismiss it from your mind. Martin. Yes, sir,
said mister Martin, anticipating his chiefs. That will be all.
By moving to the door, I will dismiss it. He
went out and shut the door, and his step was
(53:29):
light and quick in the hall. When he entered his department,
he had slowed down to his customary gate, and he
walked quietly across the room to the double twenty file,
wearing a look of studious concentration. From the Thurber connival
(53:50):
The Catbird Seat by James Thurber, I've done all the
damage I can do here. Countdown has come to you
from the Vin Scully Studio at the world headquarters of
(54:12):
the Olderman Broadcasting Empire in New York. Here are the credits.
Most of the music was arranged, produced and performed by
Brian Ray and John Phillip Shaneale, who are O the
Countdown musical directors. All orchestration and keyboards by John Phillip Shaneale.
Guitars based on drums by Brian Ray, produced by Tko Brothers.
Other Beethoven selections have been arranged and performed by the
group No Horns Allowed. The sports music is the Olderman
(54:36):
theme from ESPN two and it was written by Mitch
Warren Davis courtesy of ESPN, Inc. The musical comments by
Nancy Fauss, the best baseball stadium organist ever. Our announcer
was my friend Richard Lewis, and everything else was pretty
much my fault. So that's countdown for this, the eight
hundred and eighty fifth day since Donald Trump's first attempted
coup against the democratically elected government of the United States.
(54:57):
Don't forget to keep arresting him while we still can.
The next scheduled countdown is Monday. Till then, I'm Keith
olber In. Good morning, good afternoon, goodnight, and good luck.
I god indicted in Miami Ding Dong accounts are gonna
(55:19):
club book me and bail me, try me and jail me,
but get me to the trial on time. Thank you,
Nancy Faust. Countdown with Keith Olreman is a production of iHeartRadio.
For more podcasts from iHeartRadio, visit the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts,
(55:41):
or wherever you get your podcasts.
Countdown with Keith Olderman is a production of iHeartRadio. Donald
Trump has been indicted on seven charges, and the foremost
of them is clearly a violation of the Espionage Act,
(00:26):
specifically one designed to send to prison for up to
ten years someone who was legally allowed to possess unclassified
national defense information, but who refused to return that information
in whatever form it took to the proper government authorities.
It is eighteen US Code seven nine to three D,
(00:49):
and it fits the allegations against Trump better than any
of his suits. It erases all his stated defenses and excuses,
like Trump's belief he owned a magic wand of declassification
and defense posited in just the last few days that
he was the president, so of course he had the
(01:10):
right to possess and keep all defense information. Eighteen US
Code seven nine to three D describes a crime involving
information that is not classified, which the defendant at some
point did have the right to possess, and it's still illegal.
Eighteen US Codes seven nine three D would seemingly box
(01:34):
Trump in without the possibility of escape. Trump's lawyer, James
Trusty told CNN last night he has not even seen
the actual indictment, but only had broad strokes painted to him,
and he mentioned the wilful retention part of the Espionage Act,
thus essentially confirming eighteen US Code seven nine three D.
(01:55):
He mentioned multiple charges about false statements about conspiracy, and
quote several obstruction based charges, including witness tampering to go
back to the beginning. At approximately seven pm Eastern daylight
time on Thursday, June eighth, twenty twenty three, his attorneys
(02:15):
were informed by the Department of Justice by phone, and
he was then informed by those attorneys that Trump had
been indicted in Miami on seven separate sealed counts of
criminal conduct, none of them yet formally revealed to the public,
but clearly pertaining to the classified and defense documents he
stole and kept in his home and his office at
(02:37):
marri Lago, and reportedly including charges of illegal retention of
national defense information, conspiracy to obstruct justice, false statements to
government investigators seven counts. For context, the usual number of
indictments for former presidents or current presidential candidates is approximately zero.
(02:59):
CBS News is reporting that for all of his bravado,
when that happened, Trump reacted to the indictments with anger
because Trump had quote people in his inner circle who
reassured him for months that it was very unlikely to happen.
The entire Miami grand jury process was apparently news to him,
and he really believed there was a chance that the
(03:21):
meeting between his attorneys Trustee and Rowley and Halligan with
Jack Smith, the special counsel on Monday might have turned
into some form of negotiation. CBS also reports Trump's team
now will move to dismiss and to try to question
Jack Smith or j Bratt of the Justice Department, the
latter over a casual remark he made to one witnesses
(03:44):
lawyers about the lawyer's application to become a judge, which
Trump's lawyers will now try to blow up into a
reason that Trump should walk on all of these charges
and all other charges, forever and ever and ever. Trump
is also reported shocked by the reported cooperation of his
former chief of staff, Mark Meadows, and CBS's Robert Costa
(04:07):
quotes a Trump ally as fuming, quote, why the f
has he been so quiet? Well? I can answer that
the specifics of what is the first federal indictment of
a former president only because Richard Nixon was preemptively pardoned
by the president who succeeded him, Gerald Ford are as
(04:29):
of recording time entirely unofficial and just sourced. But the
centerpiece of all reporting is as it was phraised by
ABC News, quote willful retention of national defense information. If
that is the correct characterization, it would seem to be
exactly what the UK paper The Independent had reported on
(04:51):
Wednesday that Special Counsel Smith had made the deliberate decision
to prosecute Trump not for stealing or possessing classified information,
but to proceed instead under eighteen US Code seventy nine three.
As that newspapers Andrew Feinberg wrote, the use of section
seven nine three, which does not make reference to classified information,
(05:13):
is understood to be a strategic decision by prosecutors that
has been made to short circuit mister Trump's ability to
claim that he used his authority as president to declassified
documents he removed from a White House on quote. Conviction
for violation of that Code seven nine to three gathering, transmitting,
or losing defense information carries a penalty of a fine
(05:38):
or of up to ten years in prison, or both,
since Paragraph D lists fourteen different kinds of defense information,
fourteen different forms of defense information. Let me abridge the
code somewhat as I read it to you. Quote. Whoever,
lawfully having possession of access, to, control, over, or being
(06:02):
entrusted with any document, et cetera relating to the national
defense willfully retains the same and fails to deliver it
on demand to the officer or employee of the United
States entitled to receive it on quote is guilty of
violating that statute. That not only reads as if it
(06:22):
were written to describe exactly what Trump did with all
the documents, but as suggested previously, it denies Trump any
claim that he had declassified those materials, because the crime
does not depend on their being any classified materials. It
circumvents the entirety of Trump's declassification defense, and were he
(06:43):
now to try to defend himself by modifying it to
claim that he had the right to possess the defense information,
that is also irrelevant the first clause of this magic
wand eighteen US Code seventy nine to three D. Whoever
lawfully having possession of defense information. Moreover, we may have
(07:07):
previously been given a preview of exactly what that defense
information is, or at least what one piece of that
defense information could be even if there are multiple allegations,
even if there is just one indictment for ten thousand
pieces of paper. On May thirty first, CNN reported that
Trump had been recorded by the ghostwriters for Mark Meadows
(07:30):
referring to seemingly holding in his hands, seemingly paraphrasing what
Trump said was a four page document from the Chairman
of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Mark Millie, which outlined
United States military plans for an attack on Iran. Trump
refers to the fact on the recording that he cannot
just show it to the writers because he can't unilaterally
(07:51):
declassify material. There was also subsequent reporting that the National
Archives asked for the return of a document matching Trump's
own description of the four page Milli Iran plan, but
Trump's lawyers could not find it, and by all accounts
(08:11):
did not and have not returned it. I referred to
this four page document on this podcast on that date
as the smoking gun. I think I'll stick with that reference.
Of course, any charge under eighteen US Code seventy nine
three D would be so broad, could be so broad
(08:32):
that it could contain almost any document Trump kept, or
all of them, or just the classified ones, or just
the unclassified ones, or just the ones he claimed had
been declassified. It doesn't matter if Trump actually had some
kind of magic wand it matters only that Jack Smith
has won. Now, we do not and probably will not,
(08:55):
have any kind of understanding of the math. Where do
seven counts come from when virtually all reporting creates three
column headings? Or the crimes of Donald Trump? Again to
quote ABC's reporting willful retention of national defense information? Well
we got that one clear, I hope, conspiracy scheme to
conceal and false statements and representations for the impeccable Ryan
(09:21):
Goodman of Just Security. Scheme to conceal could easily be
eighteen US Code one zero zero one quote. Whoever, in
any matter within the jurisdiction of the executive, legislative, or
judicial branch of the government, falsifies, conceals, or covers up
by any trick, scheme, or device, a material fact unquote
(09:43):
relevant to a prosecution that carries fines or prison up
to five years for doing that false statements. That's a
little less obvious, since there is no evidence that Trump
himself has made any statements to any official in this investigation, that,
after all, is the art of being Trump. You don't
(10:05):
go on the record that guy does. But the New
York Times observes Trump could still be guilty of violating
eighteen US Code two quote. Whoever commits an offense against
the United States or aids of bets, councils, commands, induces,
or procures its commission is punishable as a principle. Slight
(10:28):
translation here, if you caused it to happen, it's the
same as you actually doing it yourself. To resume eighteen
US Code two, whoever willfully causes an act to be done, which,
if directly performed by him or another, would be an
offense against the United States is punishable as a principle. Well,
(10:50):
what on earth could that be that could easily be
making his own attorney, Evan Corcoran draw up that document
saying that a thorough search of Mari Lago had been
conducted and these thirty eight classified documents were all we found,
and here's Christina Bob's signature on it at the bottom,
When in fact, Trump himself had made sure that it
(11:11):
could not have been a thorough search because he moved
all the boxes back and forth, and he kept Corcoran
from searching anywhere but in the storage room. Or it
could be what I mentioned to you yesterday, this newly
reported fascination that prosecutors have with the original draft of
a January twenty twenty two statement that included a claim
(11:32):
that everything had been returned to the archives, then a
claim that was removed from the final statement on the
matter in January twenty twenty two. Again, this is all
just reading tea leaves, and we are reading tea leaves
because by Department of Justice Code of honor or God
knows what the indictment is sealed. That secrecy by the
(11:55):
Special Council has left the entire publicity playing field clear
for Trump and every Republican under the sun to get
out their version of this write down to Trump, in
fact being the first to reveal his own indictment in
a social media post at seven twenty one pm Eastern quote,
the corrupt Biden administration has informed my attorneys that I
(12:17):
have been indicted seemingly over the boxes, et cetera, et cetera,
et cetera, followed by I have been summoned to appear
at the Federal Courthouse in Miami on Tuesday at three pm.
He did not add be there aloha. There followed an
avalanche of Banana Republic references and a blitz of fundraising emails,
(12:39):
and a promise from the unintentional parody presidential candidate Vivek
Ramaswami to pardon Trump on January twentieth, twenty twenty five, which,
given Trump's intention to be president again and his insistence
that he is innocent, may not be the flex that
Ramaswami thinks. It is a couple of brief scenes off
(13:00):
stage worth noting The New York Times Glenn Thrush may
have seen the indictment in real time shortly before three
point thirty yesterday in the courtyard of the Justice Department,
writes Thrush, quote Marshall Miller, a top Department official who
acted as an intermediary with the Special Council, raced out
of the building with a wad of papers in his
(13:21):
hand and an aid in tow. Also, the reputation of
the Secret Service continues to disintegrate. The Washington Post Rights
Secret Service officials in Washington and members of Trump's security
detail companying him in New Jersey were caught off guard
by his announcement Thursday night that he had been indicted.
(13:43):
Within moments of his post untruth, social Secret Service officials
began emailing one another and setting in motion a series
of planning meetings in Washington and Miami. Really, they were surprised.
How what happened here? Did the Secret Service transfer those
(14:03):
agents who had been guarding the home of the National
Security Advisor Jake Sullivan back in April when an intoxicated
man sash aid, passed every last one of them at
three o'clock in the morning and broke into Sullivan's house,
And they never noticed because they were too busy looking
at their cell phones, and they didn't know about it
until Sullivan came out and told them himself. Same guys surprised.
(14:29):
Other notes, Newt Gingrich testified yesterday presumably about Trump builking
his own roubs for funds to fight as stolen election
that he knew was not stolen, or about the fake
elector's scheme, or both, and that serves as a reminder
that Jack Smith's investigations and possible charges against Trump continue
on all other fronts. Also, Steve Mannon has been subpoened,
(14:53):
and the Biden White House insists that it learned of
the indictments last night only when they sought in media.
You know, I did get out one of the first
t wheats on the Trump announcement. I'm hoping they saw that. Lastly,
since man's most distant ancestor climbed the primordial ooze, every
(15:16):
momentous event in our history has always been accompanied by
an equally momentous stupid event. There was the twenty one
gun salute in which the honoree got shot. There was
the new state of the art baseball stadium that opened
without a press box for the reporters to sit in.
And now there is Trump's indictment announcement and the worst
(15:41):
home video ever recorded. It is a masterpiece of missteps.
It is on the rushmore of rushed work. It is
a new high in low. Trump posted it at seven
point fifty seven from his golf club in Bedminster, New Jersey.
(16:03):
He is standing in front of a large painting seemingly
depicting a white house office scene from the late nineteenth century.
Trump has been positioned directly under an overhead spotlight of
some kind, so his flock of seagulls comb over that
he has honed to exactly his preferred shade of spray
(16:25):
on gold rustolium has instead been bleached white, and it
looks like a white yamica that has slid forward towards
his bright white eyebrows. He is also perfectly placed in
front of that painting in such a way that a
man in the painting who is standing. I think it
could be President Chester A. Arthur, or even President Grover Cleveland,
(16:48):
although the body language suggests it's mister Peanut. The man
in the painting is perfectly positioned and seems to be
about a foot tall and seems to be standing on
top of Trump's right shoulder. If this great gazoo effect
were not already hilarious enough, the man standing on Trump's shoulder,
(17:11):
the foot tall man on Trump's shoulder, is twirling his
mustache like he is snidely whiplash who has just tied
No Fenwick to the railroad tracks, and he is standing
on Trump's shoulder as Trump announces he has been indicted
(17:33):
for crimes against the United States of America. Want a
fitting way to end the coverage of the first time
in our hist Oh wait, I forgot something I forgot
there's new lyrics to my favorite song. I God indicted
(17:58):
in Miami, ding Don Counts Argona claw t book me
and bail me, try me and jail me, but get
me to the trial on time. Thank you, Nancy Fast.
(18:20):
Also of interest here as if we could possibly possibly
top the indictment of Donald Trump on seven different charges.
Also of interest here a name you thought you had
been done with hearing me say ever again? Ah, but
CNN's year to year advertising information has come out. I
(18:44):
will go over all of it because it doesn't take
as long as it should, because it's down forty percent
from last year. Last year before they ever heard the
name that's next. This is countdown. You know. This is
countdown with you know Keith Alberman. Postscripts to news some headlines,
(19:11):
some updates, some snarks, some predictions, dateline the Supreme Court,
somebody got scared. Chief Justice Roberts and Brett party down.
Cavanaugh lined up with the three liberals to strike down
Alabama's racist congressional map, upholding a key part of the
Voting Rights Act, with such alacrity that within hours, the
(19:32):
Cook Political Report changed five of its congressional predictions for
next year, Alabama's first and second districts, and the Louisiana
fifth and sixth go from solid Republican to toss up,
and the North Carolina first goes from toss up to
lean Democratic. As some political observers observed, the court may
(19:53):
have just given the Democrats the House back, if that
weren't shocking enough. A bid to hobble medicaid and keep
citizens from suing states for violating their rights was rejected
by the worked by seven to two. The only dissenters
were Alito and Thomas. Obviously, Thomas's check has cleared. Dateline
CNN Hudson Yards, New York, Chris Lickt is gone, but
(20:15):
the memory and the stench lingers on the advertising Research
from Media Radar reports that for the first four months
of twenty twenty three, CNN's on air and digital ad
revenue had dropped forty percent compared to the first four
months of twenty twenty two before Lickt got there and
started hunting for the middle that does not exist in
(20:36):
real terms. That's two hundred million dollars CNN did not
make for context. MSNBC lost six point one percent of
its ad revenue, Fox six point eight, CNN forty. But
I'm sure they'll figure it out, just because their old
audience is gone, and there's no stars in primetime or
(20:57):
in the morning or any other time of the day.
(21:18):
Thank you, Nancy Faust. Dateline Fox Quote News unquote. It
has announced that Monday, Sean Hannity's guest will be Governor
Gavin Newsom of California, who admits he watches Fox all
the time, whose ex wife, Kimberly Gilfoyle used to be
on Fox before she turned out to be even too
gross for them. Here's a question, Governor, why why would
(21:41):
you go on Fox? Now? Their own viewers have their
foot on Fox's neck and you go on there. It's
like Stephen A. Smith going on with Hannity. You can
only damage yourself, and even if you don't actually damage
yourself during the show, they have all that tape of
you that they can distort out of context and use
against you next time. Democrats do not go on Fox.
(22:05):
They are mortally wounded. Let them bleed. Dateline Alderman Broadcasting
Empire World Headquarters, Sports Capsule Building, New York. Sometime very
late Tuesday, it looks like this podcast crossed another threshold.
Ten million downloads in a little over ten months, a million,
five hundred thousand of them last month alone. As ever,
(22:26):
I thank you for your support and your loyalty. And
with that uncharacteristic niceness out of the way, it's not enough,
it's not nearly enough. Tell the others stop passers by, seriously,
thank you. Coming up Fridays with thurber and many of
(22:55):
his stories are clever, and many are funny. And then
there are some whose plots are worthy of Arthur Conan
Doyle or Shakespeare. The cat seat next first the day
he round up with the missigrants, morons and dunning Kruger
effect specimens who constitute today's bus pussons in the world lebrons,
(23:16):
a bunch of people bashing Gene Simmons of kiss because
he showed up to the British Parliament and attended Prime
Minister's question time, and he visited the Irish mp ian Paisley.
Simmons also called for the restoration of the Stormont House Agreement,
in which power in Northern Ireland would be shared by
Irish and pro British politicians for the benefit of citizens.
(23:36):
And a lot of reaction here and there was he's
a rock and roll guy in face paint. Gene Simmons
also used to be a sixth grade teacher, and I
ask you this, which makes more sense Gene Simmons in
his kiss attire talking about Irish politics, or Marjorie Taylor
Green being allowed into Congress without a tour pass and
(23:59):
adult supervision. The runners up, Jesse Waters and Laura Ingram,
who work at the rotting carcass of what used to
be Fox quote News unquote, don't go on there, Governor.
They continue to mock the last two days of the
air in New York and Washington and all the Atlantic
seaboard being tasteable, being so orange that, as the satirical
(24:21):
site Have I Got News for You pointed out, New
Yorker is urged to remain vigilant after Donald Trump is
rendered completely invisible. Waters mocked warnings to stay inside by saying,
paboly saints, stay inside, but I didn't listen, which checks
out because he's a moron. A lot of stupid people
(24:42):
on Fox kill Meat is stupid. Harris Faulkner is so stupid.
She used to have a cell phone case with her
own picture on it, apparently in case she forgot what
she looked like. But Waters is next level. Ingram meanwhile
hosted a climate change denier named Steve Molloy and Steve
Malloy said, we have this kind of air in India
and China all the time. No public health emergency. This
(25:05):
doesn't kill anybody, that doesn't make anybody cough. This is
not a health event, no, of course, not other than
the extra million premature deaths a year from air pollution
in China and India. Doesn't mean a thing. Ah, I'm
surprised they didn't note that. With the atmospheric patterns suggesting
that we're in for a summer of this, New Yorkers
(25:26):
and Washingtonians who have always wanted their own fireplace but
could not afford one, can now just open a window
and make a crackling sound with some cellophane and pretend
they have one. But our winner, good old George Santos,
once again, we can do two things at once. We
can deplore his extraordinary dishonesty, that his amazing conviction that
(25:47):
he will continue to get away with it because so
far he has, while at the same time we can
only look at the stamina with envy, his stamina in
finding ways that none of the rest of us would
have ever dreamed of to break laws, violate ethics, and
surround ourselves with the worst possible people. That Mother Jones Magazine,
(26:09):
David Corn and Jacqueline Sweet report that Santos is so
corrupt that his lawyer was in the mob that attacked
the Capitol on January sixth. Now we knowed Santos was
in the VIP section that day for Trump's stochastic terrorism
speech at the Ellipse. But now Mother Jones reports quote,
newly uncovered photos and video footage of January sixth show
(26:30):
that his attorney, Joseph Murray, was in the angry mob
that trespassed on Capitol grounds. It appears the attorney Murray
got to the steps of the Capitol and stopped and watched.
No evidence he went in, No evidence he broke the law.
But Mother Jones says former Queen's Republican District leader Philip Grillow,
who went into the Congress through a broken window, says
(26:52):
he himself saw Murray on the way from the Ellipse. Quote,
he was leading the charge up the hill. He was
urging us on waiving this to follow him. And now
he's George Santos's lawyer. George, Yeah, but he didn't go
in the Capitol.
Speaker 2 (27:08):
Santos Today's worst parson in the world. Here's the number
one story on the Countdown, and since it is the
(27:28):
weekend edition, it's time for some James Thurber. The catbirds
Seat combines two of my all time favorite things, Thurber
and baseball broadcasting. As Thurber will reveal in the story,
the title comes from a catchphrase used by the Brooklyn
Dodgers legendary announcer Red Barber, the man who trained Vince
Scully and is my late friend Vin's only true competition
(27:51):
for greatest baseball play by playing man of all time.
I met Red Barber once I interviewed him for CNN.
He called me Keith throughout the interview. I was so starstruck.
It's pretty much all I remember from the interview.
Speaker 1 (28:05):
Anyway. Bert Lancaster bought the movie rights to this story
and he got Billy Wilder to commit to direct it. Well,
how come you've never heard of this perfect sounding film,
The Catbird Seat, directed by Billy Wilder. They sold the
rights and in nineteen sixty the film was made, but
(28:25):
they relocated it from Manhattan to Scotland, starring Peter Sellars
dressed up as an old man as mister Martin. It's okay,
unless you've read the story or had it read to
you from the Thurber Carnival nineteen forty five, The Catbird
Seat by James Thurber. Mister Martin bought the pack of
(28:51):
camels on Monday night in the most crowded cigar store
on Broadway. It was theater time, and seven or eight
men were buying cigarettes. The clerk didn't even glance at
mister Martin, who put the pack in his overcoat pocket
and went out. If any of the staff at F
and S had seen him by the cigarettes, they would
have been astonished, for it was generally known that mister
(29:14):
Martin did not smoke, and never had. No one saw him.
It was just a week to the day since mister
Martin had decided to rub out missus Old Jean Barrows.
The term rub out pleased him because it suggested nothing
more than the correction of an error, in this case,
(29:35):
an error of mister Fitweiler. Mister Martin had spent each
night of the past week working out his plan and
examining it as he walked home. Now he went over
it again for the hundredth time. He resented the element
of imprecision, the margin of guesswork that entered into the business.
The project, as he had worked it out, was casual
(29:59):
and bold. The risks were considerable. Something might go wrong
anywhere along the line, and therein lay the cunning of
his scheme. No one would ever see in the cautious,
painstaking hand of Irwin Martin, head of the filing department
at f and S, of whom mister Fitweiler had once said,
(30:21):
man is fallible, but Martin isn't. No one would see
his hand, that is, unless he were caught in the act.
Sitting in his apartment drinking a glass of milk, mister
Martin reviewed his case against missus Old Jean Barrows, as
he had every night for seven nights. He began at
(30:45):
the beginning. Her quacking voice and braying laugh at first
profaned the halls of FNS. On March seventh, nineteen forty one,
mister Martin had a head for dates. Old Roberts, the
personnel chief, had introduced her as the newly appointed special
advisor to the present of the firm, mister Fitweiler. The
(31:07):
woman had appalled mister Martin instantly, but he had not
shown it. He had given her his dry hand a
look of studious concentration in a faint smile. Well, she said,
looking at the papers on his desk, are you lifting
the ox cart out of the ditch. As mister Martin
recalled that moment over his milk, he squirmed slightly. He
(31:32):
must keep his mind on her crimes as a special advisor,
not on her peccadillos as a personality. This he found
difficult to do. In spite of entering an objection and
sustaining it. The faults of the woman as a woman
kept chattering on in his mind like an unruly witness.
She had for almost two years now baited him in
(31:54):
the halls, in the elevator, even in his own office,
into which she romped now and then like a circus horse.
She was constantly shouting these silly questions at him. Are
you lefting the ox cart out of the ditch? Are
you tearing up the pea patch? Are you hollering down
the rain barrel? Are you scraping around the bottom of
(32:15):
the pickle barrel? Are you sitting in the catmarried seat.
It was Joey Hart, one of mister Martin's two assistants,
who had explained what the gibberish meant she must be
a Dodger fan, he had said. Red Bob announces the
(32:35):
Dodger games over the radio, and he uses these expressions,
picked them up down south. Joey had gone on to
explain one or two, Tearing up the pea patch meant
going on a rampage. Sitting in the catbirds seat meant
sitting pretty like a batter with three balls and no
strikes on him. Mister Martin dismissed all this with an effort.
(32:58):
It had been annoying, it had driven him nearer to distraction,
but he was too solid a man to be moved,
moved to murder by anything so childish. It was unfortunate,
he reflected, as he passed on to the important charges
against Missus Barrows, that he had stood up under it
so well. He had maintained always an outward appearance of
(33:22):
polite tolerance. Why I even believe you like the woman mispaired,
His other assistant had once said to him, he had
simply smiled a gavel wrapped in mister Martin's mind, and
the case proper was resumed. Missus Aul Jean Barrows stood
charged with wilful, flatant and persistent attempts to destroy the
(33:42):
efficiency and system of fn S. It was confident material
and relevant to review her advent and rise to power.
Mister Martin had got the story from Miss Paired, who
seemed always able to find things out. According to her,
Missus Barrows had met mister Fitweller at a party where
(34:04):
she had rescued him from the embraces of a powerfully built,
drunken man who had mistaken the president of F and
S for a famous retired middle Western football coach. She
had led him to a sofa and somehow worked upon
him a monstrous magic. The aging gentleman had jumped to
(34:24):
the conclusion there and then that this was a woman
of singular attainments, equipped to bring out the best in
him and in the firm. A week later he had
introduced her into F and S as his special adviser.
On that day, Confusion got its foot in the door.
(34:47):
After Miss Tyson, mister Brundage, and mister Bartlett had been
fired and mister Munson had taken his hat and stalked
out mailing. In his resignation letter, Old Roberts had been
emboldened to speak to mister Fitweiler. He mentioned that mister
Munson's department had become a little disrupted, and hadn't a
perhaps better resume the old system there? Mister Fitwaller had said,
(35:09):
certainly not. He had the greatest faith in missus Barrow's ideas.
They require a little seasoning. Little seasoning is all, he
had added. Mister Roberts had given it up. Mister Martin
reviewed in detail all the changes wrought by missus Barrows.
She had begun chipping at the cornices of the firm's edifice,
(35:29):
and now she was swinging at the foundation stones with
a pickaxe. Mister Martin came now in his summing up
to the afternoon of Monday, November two, nineteen forty two,
just one week ago. On that day, at three pm,
Missus Barrows had bounced into his office. Boo, she had yelled,
(35:50):
Are you scraping around the bottom of the pickle barrel?
Mister Martin had looked at her from under his green
eye shade, saying nothing. She had begun to wander about
the office, taking it in with her great popping eyes.
Do you really need all these filing cabinets, she had demanded. Suddenly,
(36:11):
mister Martin's heart had jumped each of these files. He
had said, keeping his voice even plays an indispensable part
in the system of f and s. She had brayed
at him while don't tear up the pea patch, and
gone to the door. From there she had bawled, but
(36:31):
you sure have got a lot of fines scrap in here.
Mister Martin could no longer doubt that the finger was
on his beloved department. Her pickaxe was on the upswing,
poised for the first blow. It had not come yet.
He had received no blue memo from the enchanted mister
(36:53):
Fitweller bearing nonsensical instructions deriving from this obscene woman, But
there was no doubt in mister Martin's mind that one
would be forthcoming. He must act quickly. Already a precious
week had gone by. Mister Martin stood up in his
living room, still holding his milk glass. Gentlemen of the jury,
(37:15):
he said to himself, I demand the death penalty for
this horrible person. The next day, mister Martin followed his
routine as usual. He polished his glasses more often and
once sharpened an already sharp pencil. But not even mispaired noticed.
Only once did he catch sight of his victim. She
(37:38):
swept past him in the hall with the patronizing Hi.
At five point thirty, he walked home as usual and
had a glass of milk as usual. He had never
drunk anything stronger in his life, unless you could count
ginger Ale. The late Sam Schlosser, the s of F
and S had praised mister Martin at a staff meeting
several years before for his temperate habits. One of our
(38:02):
most efficient workers. Neither drinks nor smoke, he had said,
the results speak for themselves. Mister Fitwiler had sat by,
nodding approval. Mister Martin was still thinking about that red
letter day as he walked over to the Shaft's restaurant
on Fifth Avenue near forty sixth Street. He got there
as he always did, at eight o'clock. He finished his
(38:23):
dinner and the financial page of the New York Sun
quartered at to nine. As he always did, It was
his custom after dinner to take a walk. This time
he walked down Fifth Avenue at a casual place. His
gloved hands felt moist and warm, his forehead cold. He
transferred the camels from his overcoat to a jacket pocket.
(38:43):
He wondered as he did so, if they did not
represent an unnecessary note of strain. Missus Sparrows smoked only luckies.
It was his idea to puff a few puffs on
a camel after the rubbing out, stub it out in
the ashtray, holding her lipstick, saying luckies, and thus drag
(39:04):
a small red hairing across the trail. Perhaps it was
not a good idea. It would take time. He might
even choke too loudly. Mister Martin had never seen the
house on West twelfth Street where Missus Barrows lived, but
he had a clear enough picture of it. Fortunately, she
had bragged to everybody about her decky first floor apartment
(39:28):
in the perfectly darling three story red brick. There would
be no doorman or other attendants, just the tenants of
the second and third floors. As he walked along, mister
Martin realized that he would get there before nine thirty.
He had considered walking north on Fifth Avenue from Shrafts
to a point from which it would take him until
(39:48):
ten o'clock to reach the house. At that hour people
were less likely to be coming in or going out,
But the procedure would have made an awkward loop in
the straight thread of his casualness, and he had abandoned it.
It was impossible to figure when people would be entering
or leaving the house. Anyway, there was a great risk
at any hour if he ran into anybody, he would
(40:09):
simply have to place the rubbing out of Old Jean
Barrows in the inactive file forever. The same thing would
hold true if there was someone in her apartment. In
that case, he would just say that he had been
passing by, recognized her charming house, and thought to drop in.
It was eighteen minutes after nine when mister Martin turned
(40:31):
into twelfth Street. A man passed him, and a man
and a woman talking. There was no one within fifty paces.
When he came to the house halfway down the block.
He was up the steps and in the small vestibule,
and no time pressing the bell under the card that
said missus Old Jean Barrows. When the clicking in the
locks started, he jumped forward against the door. He got
inside fast, closing the door behind him. A bulb in
(40:53):
a lantern hung from the hall ceiling on a chain
seemed to give a monstrously bright light. There was nobody
on the stair which went up ahead of him. Along
the left wall. A door opened down the hall on
the wall on the right. He went toward it swiftly
on tiptoe. Well, for God's sakes, look who's here? Bawled
Missus Barrows, and her brain laugh rang out like the
(41:16):
report of a shotgun. He rushed past her like a
football attacker, bumping her. Hey, quit shoving, she said, closing
the door behind them. They were in her living room,
which seemed to mister Martin to be lighted by a
hundred lamps. What's after you? She said, here's jumpy as
a goat. He found he was unable to speak. His
(41:39):
heart was wheezing in his throat. I yes, he finally
brought out. She was jabbering and laughing as she started
to help him off with his coat. No, no, he said,
I'll put it here. He took it off and put
it on a chair near the door. Your hat and
gloves too, She said, you're in a lady's house. He
(42:02):
put his hat on top of the coat. Missus Barrows
seemed larger than he had thought. He kept his gloves on.
I was passing by, he said, I recognized. Is there
anyone here? She laughed louder than ever. No, she said,
(42:22):
we're all alone. You're white. Is a sheet? You funny man?
Whatever has come over you, I'll mix you a toddy.
She started toward a door across the room. Scotch and
so to be all right, But say you don't drink,
do you? She turned and gave him her amused look.
Mister Martin pulled himself together. Scotch and soda will be
(42:43):
all right, he heard himself say. He could hear her
laughing in the kitchen. Mister Martin looked quickly around the
living room for the weapon he had counted on finding one.
There there were and irons, and a poker, and something
in a corner that looked like an Indian club. None
of them would do it. Couldn't be that way. He
began to pace around. He came to a desk. On
(43:05):
it lay a metal paper knife with an ornate handle.
Would it be sharp enough? He reached for it and
knocked over a small brass jar. Stamps spilled out of
it and fell onto the floor with a clatter. Hey, missus,
Barrows yelled from the kitchen. Are you tearing up the
pea patch? Mister Martin gave a strange laugh. Picking up
(43:27):
the knife, he tried its point against his left wrist.
It was blunt. It wouldn't do. When Missus Barrows reappeared
carrying two high balls, mister Martin, standing there with his
gloves on, became acutely conscious of the fantasy. He had
wrought cigarettes in his pocket, a drink prepared for him.
(43:49):
It was all too grossly improbable. It was more than that,
it was impossible. Somewhere in the back of his mind,
a vague idea stirred sprouted. For heaven's sake, take off
those gloves, said Missus Barrows. I always wear them in
(44:12):
the house, said mister Martin. The idea began to bloom,
strange and wonderful. She put the glasses on a coffee
table in front of a sofa and sat on the sofa.
Come over here, you odd little man, she said. Mister
Martin went over and sat beside her. It was difficult
(44:32):
getting a cigarette out of the pack of camels, but
he managed it. She held a match for him, laughing,
she said, handing him his drink. This is perfectly marvelous,
you with a drink and a cigarette. Mister Martin puffed,
not too awkwardly, and took a gulp of the highball.
(44:53):
I drink and smoke all the time, he said. He
clinked his glass against hers. Here's nuts to that old
wind bag fit whiler, he said, and gulped again. The
stuff tasted awful, but he made no grimace. Really, mister Martin,
she said, her voice and posture changing, you are insulting
our employer. Missus Barrows was now all special advisor to
(45:19):
the President. I am preparing a bomb, said mister Martin,
which will blow the old goat higher than hell. He
had only had a little of the drink, which was
not strong. It couldn't be that. Do you take dope
or something, Missus Barrows asked coldly. Heroine said, mister Martin,
(45:40):
I'll be coked to the gills when I bumped that
old buzzard off. Mister Martin, she shouted, getting to her feet,
that will be all of that. You must go at once.
Mister Martin took another swallow of the drink. He tapped
his cigarette out in the ash tray and put the
pack of camels on the coffee table. Then he got up.
She stood glaring at him. He walked over and put
(46:03):
on his hat and coat. Not a word about this,
he said, and laid an index finger against his lips.
All missus Barrows could bring out was a really Mister
Martin put his hand on the doorknob, sitting in the
catbird's seat, he said, he stuck his tongue out at
(46:25):
her and left. Nobody saw him go. Mister Martin got
to his apartment walking well before eleven. No one saw
him go in. He had two glasses of milk after
brushing his teeth, and he felt elated. It wasn't tipsy
in is because he hadn't been tipsy anyway. The walk
(46:45):
had worn off all effects of the whiskey. He got
in bed and read a magazine for a while. He
was asleep before midnight. Mister Martin got to the office
at eight thirty the next morning as usual. At a
quarter to nine, old Jean Barrows, who had never before
arrived at work before ten, swept into his office. I'm
the party to mister Fitwaler now, she shouted. If he
(47:07):
turns you over to the police, it's no more than
you deserve. Mister Martin gave her a look of shocked surprise.
I beg your pardon, he said. Missus Barrow snorted and
bounced out of the room, leaving miss paird and Joey
Hart staring after her. What's the matter with that old devil, now,
asked Miss Paired. I have no idea, said mister Martin,
(47:30):
resuming his work. The other two looked at him, and
then at each other. Miss Paired got up and went out.
She walked slowly past the closed door of mister Fitwiler's office.
Missus Barrows was yelling inside, but she was not braying.
Miss Paired could not hear what the woman was saying.
She went back to her desk. Forty five minutes later,
(47:52):
Missus Barrows left the President's office and went into her own,
shutting the door. It wasn't until half an hour later
that mister Fitwiler sent for mister Martin, the head of
the filing department. Neat quiet, attentive, stood in front of
the old man's desk. Mister Fitweiler was pale and nervous.
He took his glasses off and twiddled them. He made
(48:12):
a small ruffing sound in his throat. Martin, he said,
you have been with us more than twenty years. Twenty two, sir,
said mister Martin, in that time pursued the President. Your
work and your manner have been exemplary. I trust so, sir,
(48:34):
said mister Martin. I have understood, Martin, said mister Fitwaller,
that you have never taken a drink or smoked. That
is correct, sir, said mister Martin. Ah yes, mister Fitwiler
polished his glasses. You may describe what you did after
leaving the office yesterday, Martin, he said, certainly, sir, he said,
(48:58):
I walked home. Then I went to Shafts for dinner. Afterward,
I walked home again. I went to bed early, sir,
and read a magaze for a while. I was asleep
before eleven. Ah. Yes, said mister Fitwiler. Again. He was
silent for a moment, searching for the proper words to
say to the head of the filing department, Missus Barrows.
(49:21):
He said, finally, Missus Barrows has worked hard, Martin, very hard.
It brings me to report that she has suffered a
severe breakdown. It has taken the form of a persecution
complex accompanied by distressing hallucinations. I'm very sorry, sir, said
mister Martin. Missus Barrows is under the delusion, continued mister Fitwiler,
(49:46):
that you visited her last evening and behaved yourself in
an unseemly manner. He raised his hand to silence mister
Martin's little, pained outcry. It is the nature of these
psychological diseases, mister Fitwiler said, to fix upon the least
likely and most innocent party is the source of persecution.
(50:10):
These matters are not for the lay mind to grasp, Martin.
I've just had my psychiatrist, doctor Fitch, on the phone.
He would not, of course commit himself, but he made
enough generalizations to substantiate my suspicions. I suggested to missus Barrows,
when she had completed her story to me this morning,
(50:32):
that she visited doctor Fitch for I suspected a condition.
At once sentence, she flew, I regret to say, into
a rage and demanded requested that I call you on
the carpet. You may not know, Martin, but Missus Barrows
had planned a reorganization of your department, subject to my approval.
(50:53):
Of course, subject to my approval. This brought you, rather
than anyone else, to her mind. But again, that is
a phenomenon for doctor Fitch and not for us. So Martin,
I'm afraid Missus Barrow's usefulness here is at an end.
I'm dreadfully sorry, sir, said mister Martin. It was at
(51:16):
this point that the door to the office blew open
with the suddenness of a gas main explosion, and Missus
Barrows catapulted through. It is the little rad denying it,
she screamed. He can't get away with that. Mister Martin
got up and moved discreetly to a point beside mister
Fitwailer's chair. You drank and smoked at my apartment, she
(51:38):
bawled at mister Martin, and you know it. You called
mister Fitweer an old wind bag and said you were
gonna blow him up when you got coked to your
gills on your heroine. She stopped yelling to catch her breath,
and a new glint came into her popping eyes. If
you weren't set to drab, ordinary little man, she said,
I'd think you'd planned it all, sticking your tongue out,
(52:02):
saying you were sitting in the cat burried seat because
you thought no one would believe me when I told it.
My god, it's really too perfect, she brayed loudly and hysterically,
and the fury was on her again. She glared at
mister Fitweiler.
Speaker 2 (52:19):
Can't you see how he has checked us, You old fool,
can't you see his little game?
Speaker 1 (52:26):
But mister Fitwiler had been surreptitiously pressing all the buttons
under the top of his desk, and employees of F
and S began pouring into the room. Stockton said, Missus Fitchwiler,
you and Fishbine will take missus Barrows to her home.
Missus Powell, you will go with them. Stockton, who had
played a little football in high school, blocked Missus Barrows
(52:46):
as she made for mister Martin. It took him and
fish Mine together to force her out of the door
into the hall crowded with stenographers and office boys. She
was still screaming imprecations at mister Martin. Tangled and contradictory imprecations.
The hubbub finally died out on the corridor. I regret
(53:07):
that this has happened, said mister Fitwiler. I shall ask
you to dismiss it from your mind. Martin. Yes, sir,
said mister Martin, anticipating his chiefs. That will be all.
By moving to the door, I will dismiss it. He
went out and shut the door, and his step was
(53:29):
light and quick in the hall. When he entered his department,
he had slowed down to his customary gate, and he
walked quietly across the room to the double twenty file,
wearing a look of studious concentration. From the Thurber connival
(53:50):
The Catbird Seat by James Thurber, I've done all the
damage I can do here. Countdown has come to you
from the Vin Scully Studio at the world headquarters of
(54:12):
the Olderman Broadcasting Empire in New York. Here are the credits.
Most of the music was arranged, produced and performed by
Brian Ray and John Phillip Shaneale, who are O the
Countdown musical directors. All orchestration and keyboards by John Phillip Shaneale.
Guitars based on drums by Brian Ray, produced by Tko Brothers.
Other Beethoven selections have been arranged and performed by the
group No Horns Allowed. The sports music is the Olderman
(54:36):
theme from ESPN two and it was written by Mitch
Warren Davis courtesy of ESPN, Inc. The musical comments by
Nancy Fauss, the best baseball stadium organist ever. Our announcer
was my friend Richard Lewis, and everything else was pretty
much my fault. So that's countdown for this, the eight
hundred and eighty fifth day since Donald Trump's first attempted
coup against the democratically elected government of the United States.
(54:57):
Don't forget to keep arresting him while we still can.
The next scheduled countdown is Monday. Till then, I'm Keith
olber In. Good morning, good afternoon, goodnight, and good luck.
I god indicted in Miami Ding Dong accounts are gonna
(55:19):
club book me and bail me, try me and jail me,
but get me to the trial on time. Thank you,
Nancy Faust. Countdown with Keith Olreman is a production of iHeartRadio.
For more podcasts from iHeartRadio, visit the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts,
(55:41):
or wherever you get your podcasts.
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